


A New Year in New York

by shutterbug



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Holidays, New Year's Eve, New Years, New York, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22056562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutterbug/pseuds/shutterbug
Summary: 2020 will be about finding out, not about wondering.
Relationships: Siobhan "Shiv" Roy/Tom Wambsgans, Tom Wambsgans/Other
Kudos: 8





	A New Year in New York

Tom had never—even before he’d met Shiv—thrown himself into the mayhem that was Times Square on New Year’s Eve. At least, not before today. 

He would have explored this chaotic patch of city-earth alone, but—well, he chickened out. He needed a buddy. A pal. So now, Greg stood beside him. 

A million other people—it  _ had  _ to be a million; Tom was convinced, despite the fact that he had no concept of numbers—stood beside him, too. Times Square buzzed and vibrated with the usual number of tourists, and Tom tried not to think of how many subway-dirty hands happened to brush his knee-length Burberry. 

As Tom peered into the crowd, Greg smacked his arm—a nice backhand. When Tom found Greg’s face, he found him wearing a broad, lopsided smile. 

“What?” Tom asked. 

Greg nodded over Tom’s right shoulder. “You’ve got an admirer.” 

Tom turned, following Greg’s gaze, and discovered a dark-haired, be-spectacled woman. Tom had always been bad at guessing a woman’s age, but she looked...adult, at least. The way she smiled and waved at him made him believe she knew exactly what she was doing—exactly what she was communicating. And Tom smiled back, waved back—because his heart soared at the memory of being wanted. Being the target of someone’s desire. 

Midnight was an hour away. There was enough time. 

So Tom said goodbye to Greg, who gave him a high-five as he raised his ‘2020’ glittery, mock-glasses. “Shiv doesn’t fucking deserve you,” he shouted, which endeared him to Tom in primal, brotherly way that Tom could not fully describe. 

A few months ago, on a sea-urchin-less beach, Tom had wondered—out loud—if his sadness without Shiv would exceed his sadness with Shiv. It was time to find out. 

So Tom took his admirer to his office, covered his leather couch with a fleece blanket, and kissed her. Her name was Rose—as delicate as Shiv’s name was dangerous. Tom let her name fall out of his mouth—it wasn’t so strange—as he undressed her. 

“What do you do, Rose?” he asked, positioning himself between her legs, the tip of his dick sliding against her. 

“I’m an actress,” she said. 

Tom smiled. “Perfect.” Then he angled his hips and fucked her into the new year. 


End file.
